Established
by knowhere
Summary: Literati. They’ve been together for a while, but they still fight and make up in the end. AU


**Established**

Author: Knowhere

Rating: Pg-13

Disclaimer: I just own the idea. Not the characters.

**AN**: Enjoy; I know I've been MIA for a long time but I've got a little time on my hands and quite a bit of ideas floating around in my head.

Summary: They've been together for a while, but they still fight and they make up in the end. Literati. Future Fic. AU. One-Parter.

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He's pouting. Was it possible for men to pout? Well, he is. At least I think he is.

And it was my fault. Actually, it was both our faults; at least in my opinion. Wait, is he pouting, or is he just mad and his mad face has changed and now looks like a pout to me? His back looks like he's mad.

How did it all start? Oh yeah, I promised to be on time to the romantic night that I had insisted that we needed. And I wasn't. It really wasn't my fault, it wasn't. My editor came in the last minute and demanded that we go over the last minute details of our next issue. And when I walked in late, he was waiting. Just sitting by himself listening, (but of course he wasn't really listening because I assume he was mad), to a cd of old sappy love songs that I know he hates, but he had it on because I bought it a long time ago and complained that he wouldn't let me play it on the cd player that we share.

He's come a long way. But I ruined it. He got up at first and just looked at me. Sad; he was sad, he had on his sad puppy face that he says he doesn't have but he really does. Then he asked where I was and why I was late. Instead of apologizing like I should have, I blew up at him and started to list all the times that I could remember when he didn't show up on time or at all and I had waited. I actually remembered a lot considering I was mad. I went on for ten minutes saying that he had no right to complain.

And then it happened. He started to get mad. And the odd thing was that I was glad. While I ranted for the first ten minutes, he just stood like a kid being yelled at for something he didn't do but wouldn't defend himself. It made me feel bad. But I felt relieved when he started to boil up because I knew I was wrong for getting mad but I was so deep into it that I felt I couldn't do anything but fight my way through something that I had caused. And I got what I wanted.

He got upset and started to tell me that he has been through everything with me for the last five years. He refused to be goaded into what I was trying to suck him into. I said that he had a habit for leaving and that one of these days he was going to break my heart and leave me and I was just waiting for the day when all I would see was his retreating back. Once I said those words, I wanted to pick them back up and swallow them down. It was the one thing I knew hurt him more than anything. I knew he was young and he was confused when he left me originally but he had always felt bad and I knew that if there was one thing he could take back it would be the times that I wondered if I would ever see him again.

Once I said that, he stopped. He opened his mouth but then shut it without anything coming up. I made a move toward him, my face immediately betraying everything I wanted to hide because I am just so damn stubborn, but he recoiled from my touch. And I felt stung. No comparison to the pain I knew I just caused him. And then he whispered that he was sorry. What was he sorry for? I was the one that should be apologizing but instead he just stood there, said he was sorry with his face sad and walked over to the couch and sat down.

And here I am. Back to the beginning. I'm still standing here in the middle of our very small kitchen. I turn around and my heart drops. He had cooked and our plates were sitting on the counter. One on top of the microwave and the other on the tile top because we barely have enough room for two filled plates to sit next to each other with all of our other appliances on the counter. And I feel like scum. I feel like the bacteria that spawned the scum. How did everything spin so widely out of control? I wanted a romantic night with my boyfriend, and I had got it but then I ruined it with my big mouth that ejected words that were not deserved.

I turn to look at him again. Wow, has he not moved in the last twenty minutes? He's just sitting there, staring at the wall. No tv, no book, and he hasn't even turned off that cd of love songs. I walk slowly towards our couch. It's not even a full size couch; it's a love seat that is barely enough room for the both of us. But it's comfy; it's black and leather, and it's ours. I sit timidly next to him and I whisper, "I'm so sorry. I really am. And it sounds like it's not enough but I really am."

He looks over at me and asks, "Are you happy?"

I wasn't expecting that. "What?"

"I don't know what to do to make you feel that I won't leave you...not now and I don't plan to." He's raw, just emotionally raw and I am out of words. He's not the bad boy that he still is (no matter how much he grows or ages, he will never loose that bad boy image, and I love it) he is just the young vulnerable boy that I've never seen.

And I was shy because I knew I was wrong. "I know. It just popped up."

"Well you obviously don't really know that I'm staying put, or else it wouldn't of just popped up." He's bitter like some horrible dark chocolate that I hate.

There is nothing more to say. And I know there is nothing I can say to make it better or to erase the words that I've embedded into his memory. All these years and I've never uttered those scalding words and today I use them for the sake of hurting him. "I'm sorry and I just don't know what to say that can make you see just how sorry I am. But I am sorry and I just feel so bad." I'm begging and he's just staring at me.

"Okay." He's relenting; without a huge fight? He's still sad though, with his brown eyes dark. He looks up again. "Just don't do it again." It isn't demanding in the way he says it or even commanding; it's just a request. It was done.

I nod and he gets up and walks into our room.

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My body is tired and the pillow is soft under my head. I'd rather have his chest as a pillow, but nothing has happened since he got up and slipped into bed and I'm just not sure if he's still mad.

The bed shifts and even though I'm turned away from him I know he's looking at me. His whisper is soft and it tickles my neck. "I know you didn't mean it. And I know you feel bad." I still don't move and I wait patiently for what's coming next. He gives a dry chuckle and it isn't sarcastic, bitter, or self-deprecating. It's just a chuckle. "You know, this isn't how I imagined the position we'd end up on the bed tonight."

I turn around. "Oh?"

"Yeah. In my plan you would be a lot closer."

He's joking with me and I know he's trying to make me feel better. "That would have been nice."

He smiles even though I imagine it must me a little painful to even look at me right now. As soon as his smile appeared, it disappeared again and it left a blank face. "I haven't forgotten about it all of a sudden, you know? I'm not mad, I'm just..." He trails off and leaves me to fill in his thoughts.

"Yeah, okay. That's fair." What more can I ask for? He's given me no more fighting.

It's over. He leans into me and gently kisses me on the forehead, turns around and flops down on this side away from me. It's not the best of makeups, but he still kissed me and it was warm and soft and forgiving in his own unique way. I'm grateful.

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It's morning and it's unbelievably cold. But my back is warmer than any other part of my body and I turn around to find out why. Jess is plastered to my back with one arm thrown over to my hip and his face is warm, resting lightly on the back of my neck. Is this his ultimate move of forgiveness or just habit that has made him move closer to me in the middle of the night?

He's starting to move and he grumbles something that I can't make out with a little whimper at the cold that brushes across his face now that my neck is no longer in the path of the breeze. His eyes blink once and then again to try to chase away the sticky sleep that wants to reclaim him and he peers at me. He knows what I'm thinking; I'm sure of it.

He smiles lazy and I know I've been forgiven. What made the change? I don't know and I'm not going to ask. Now is not the time.

I wait for him to make the first move.

He does. And I'm not disappointed.

He brushes his fingertips at my bare midriff and I crack a smile, unaware of what his response will be.

His response is warm. But it's not playful like he usually is and my heart drops a little. But I'm not one complain. And I won't.

I scoot over a little closer to him and snuggle in; my fingers finding the skin above the waistband of his boxers. He breathes in and doesn't move.

It's still cold in the room because we can barely afford to pay our electric bill and that means we don't turn on the heat too often, but our bed is warm and he's no longer sad and the hurt look on his face has disappeared and I've put a new one in it's place. He's content and guilt no longer stabs at me.

He opens his eyes again and leans down to gently kiss me on the mouth. I sigh in the middle of it and he pulls back to smirk at my response. He shifts the bed slightly and I slip my right leg in between his and he pulls me to lay on his chest. "Love you Ror."

**AN**: Reviews are highly appreciated. Thanks.


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